Falling By a Sword Danger's Doorstep
by Shorty Carter
Summary: -chapter 2 up- Brookyn Smalls, a girl with anger and rebellion bottled up inside, is thrown out of her abusive home and into the hands of the newsies. All the while her father is making plans to 'finish' what he started.' Story 2 in trilogy
1. Unusual Place to Sleep

Danger's Doorstep  
By: Shorty Carter  
  
A/N I don't own Newsies, though I wish I did. Brooklyn and John Smalls are of my own creation. Please Review! Ideas are always welcome, too! Flames excepted!  
  
Summary: Brooklyn Smalls, a nobody, a Charge, is thrown out of her abusive home and into the hands of the Newsies of both Brooklyn and Manhattan. As Jack and Race make plans to build up her self esteem and get rid of her fear of men by sending her to Brooklyn with Spot, Brooklyn's father makes plans to get his "Charge" back. But her father doesn't want her back to apologize. No. He wants her back to finish what he started. Something he had started with her mother.  
  
She hit the brick wall with a sickening thud, sinking painfully to the cold stone floor. A hand came into her blurred vision, grabbing her by the neck and lifting her off the ground.  
"Ya lousy Bitch! I'd taught I's tolds ya nots ta move!" Brooklyn Smalls father, John yelled, throwing her across the small room. She landed hard, and heard something crack. White-hot pain shot through her right arm, forcing tears out of her misty gray eyes. He had been doing this since she was five, when her mother died. He blamed her for everything, and she became the object of his anger. He stalked over to her, hauling her up by the front of her torn dress.  
"I's done wit ya! Git ya lousy ass outta me house! An don'ts ya comes back!" He dragged her over to the door, flinging it open and throwing her out. She passed out the minute she hit the ground, sinking into a wonderful black void.  
  
Later that same day, night to be exact, Jack Kelly and Racetrack Higgins walked down a deserted alley, laughing and joking with each other.  
"So, Jack. Ya gonna take Sarah out dis Friday?" Race asked, playfully punching his friend in the shoulder. Jack grinned, thinking about his girlfriend Sarah Jacobs.  
"I's tink so. I's just don't know weah ta take her. Got any suggestions?" Race thought, or at least tried to.  
"I's would suggest Tibby's, but it ain't really romantic. How 'bout Medda's? I'm sure Medda could put together somethin' for ya goil. I know she would fo me!" Jack laughed at this.  
"Ya have a goil? Please tell me it don't have four legs dis time!" Race pretended to look hurt, then turned and gave Jack a shove.  
"Da last one I's had didn' have four legs! It had three!" They both burst out laughing, continuing on their way to the Lodging House. The street lamps and moonlight shed a soft glow on a figure lying in the middle of the alley. Both boys stopped their joking around and looked at the figure.  
"Well dat's an unusuals place ta sleep. Especially's on a cold night likes dis," Race commented, walking over to the person. The two soon found out it was a girl lying in her own blood, her dress torn and blood soaked. Scars and cuts criss-crossed her exposed flesh, while bruises dotted her pale skin. The only thing clean lookin on her was her strawberry hair tied back into two braids, though blood dripped into it from a long cut on her forehead.  
"God, what happen ta her? She looks likes someone beat real bad on hers," Race whispered, looking in shock.  
"Someone probably did. We need to get her ta da Lodgin' House. Run ahead an' call da Doc! Go!" Jack shouted when Race just stood there. Racetrack took off instantly, while Jack lifted the girl off the ground and half walked half ran with her to the Lodging House.  
  
John Smalls paced his small apartment, thinking of how he was going to get his charge back. No longer did he refer to her as his daughter. She became his charge, no more, no less. He ran a strong tanned hand through his auburn hair, darker than his charges. His dark brown eyes flickered around the room like a flame hungry for oxygen. Different ideas ran through his mind, but none of them seemed perfect.  
"Damn her! I should 'ave done aways wit 'er when me had da chance!" he said aloud to himself. Then it hit him, like hail falling out of a clear blue sky. Clearer than a stream racing over smooth stones. Grabbing his overcoat, he headed out the door and into the cool Manhattan night. 


	2. Wake Up Call

Danger's Doorstep   
Chapter 2  
By: Shorty Carter  
  
Early afternoon light flickered through dirty windows, casting its glow on Brooklyn's sleeping form. A crash sounded through the lodging house, followed by yelling, shouts, and screams. This woke Brooklyn up.   
"Snipeshooter! I'm gonna kill ya!" More screaming.   
"Quiet youse guys! Da goils still sleepin'! Da floors ain't sound proof ya knows!"   
"I's don' care anymore! He's stolen me cigar fer da last tyme! Get back heah ya little thief!" Another scream. Footsteps sounded on the steps, waking Brooklyn up completely. She sat up in the bunk she was in just as a young boy ran into the room, looking around frantically for a place to hide. Turning and facing her, he noticed she was awake, and looked a little startled to see her sitting up in bed. He came over, crawling under the bunk. She jumped when she heard his voice coming from under the bunk.  
"Whoa, calm down! I's ain't gonna hoit ya. Jack would kill me if I's even touches youse. Don' tell Race where I's am, 'k?" He became quiet when another boy came in, his eyes flickering around the room for something, or someone, she thought.   
"Oh! Yer awake! Ya haven' seen a little liar wit a cigar an a big mouth? He ran up heah, but I's don' know weah he hid. Do ya's know?" he asked, smiling kindly at her. She looked him up and down, studying him. He was dressed in a plaid vest and pants with a half-ways clean white shirt underneath. A hat on his head and a gamblers gleam in his eyes finished off the outfit. She decided that if he hadn't killed her already, he wasn't going to do so now, because he would have done it already. She decided to trust him.   
"Down below," she mouthed, pointing. The boy grinned, leaning over and looking under the bed.   
"Hey dere, Sniper! Whats say youse an' me go downstairs an' 'ave a lil' chat? Wit me fist! Come out ya lil' thief!" Snipeshooter, the boy under her bed, yelled, scrambling out from under the bed.   
"Youse weren' supposed ta tell 'im!" He yelled, running out of the room. The other boy followed, yelling over his shoulder, "Tanks goil!" Brooklyn grinned, leaning back against the wall.   
"Hello dere!" A voice said from the doorway. Brooklyn jumped again, looking nervously at the boy who had just entered the room. He smiled walking over to the bunk she was in. "Don' ya worry. I's ain't gonna hoit a pretty lady likes yerself. Da names Jack Kelly. An' youse would be?" Jack asked, sitting on the bunk across from hers. He seemed nice enough, but so had her father. Should she trust him?   
"Brooklyn Smalls," she whispered, her voice hoarse from lack of use.   
"Brooklyn 'eh? Are youse as tough as yer name suggests?" Brooklyn's mind flickered to the events with her father, and she broke down into tears. Jack's face softened, his eyes flickering with confusion. "'ey, don' cry. Come on, Brooklyn." He hesitantly put his arms around her, trying to calm her shaking form. When her tears finally subsided, he let go, trying to get a good look at her. She was pretty, even with all the scars, cuts and bruises patching her skin, with gray eyes and auburn hair. She was skinny, even skinnier than the poorest street rat he knew. Her eyes held such a fear and mistrust that he never knew possible. "Whateva I's said dat upset youse, I's sorry."  
"It wasn' youse," she whispered, quickly wiping at her face. If she was thrown out or her father found her, she couldn't get weak. If you get weak, you get killed.   
"So, mind tellin' me why you were unconscious in an alley two days ago?" Jack asked, looking into her gray eyes.  
"Not really, but youse'll find out somehow anyways," she said, looking up at him. "I was in dat alley cause a me fadda, John, who beats da livin' crap outta me. Dat day I's was in da alley, my fadda had come home in a woise mood den normal. Fer bout fo hours he beat me, den trew me out, sayin' he didn' want me no more. But he'll come back fer me. He always does. You can' let him find me! Please! I'll do whateva youse want me to! Jus don' let 'im find me!" she begged, struggling not to cry.   
"Don' youse worry, Brooklyn. Nobody'll find youse if yer around us." He smiled at her, watching the fear and mistrust disappear a bit. The guards on her barriers struggled a bit, then finally got the walls under control. "Youse stay heah, I'll be right back." He stood up and left, returning a few minutes later with two other people. "Brooklyn, I'd like youse ta meet Racetrack and Snipeshooter, da two guys who woke youse up," Jack said, glaring at the two boys. Racetrack simply brushed it off, taking his cigar out of his mouth to talk to her.   
"Heya dere, Brooklyn. Nice ta meet ya," he said, smiling at her.   
"Nice ta meet youse too," she whispered back.   
"I'm Snipeshooter, but youse can call me Sniper. If youse eva need a message sent some place, jus tell me an I'll get it dere an return wit a message fer youse," Sniper said, rambling on proudly.   
"Alrights," she said, smiling at him.   
"An youse can call me Race." Brooklyn nodded, smiling.   
"Speakin' a messages, Sniper, I needs ya ta go wit dis ta Spot." Jack handed Sniper a folded up note, and the boy was off like a rocket. "Race, ya mind stayin' up heah wit her? I want youse to tell her all 'bout bein' a newsy, Spot Conlon, an' anythin' else ya can tink of. Brooklyn, I'm goin' out fer a bit. Youse need anythin', jus ask dis gambla heah," Jack said, smiling at her.   
"Weah ya off ta dis time?" Race asked.   
"I'm takin' Sarah ta da park," Jack said, turning and walking out of the room. The rest of the afternoon was spent talking about everything and anything Race and Brooklyn could think of, except about there pasts.  
  
John threw the limp child to the ground, turning and walking away from the dead body. His anger and rage were building to higher temps than normal, making it dangerous for any kid to get in his way. He was having no luck in finding his 'Charge'. She had disappeared, vanished from his sight. He needed a clue, and he knew just where to get one.   
"It's been a while since I paid Benny a visit. High time I go to him for his help," he whispered, heading in the direction of Mid-Town.  
  
Shorty's Note: There, the second chapter. Really crappy, but it's done. I need reviews! 5 of them or the third chappy doesn't go up! Come on! The review button is there for a reason! See ya! Peachy Bye! Peace Out!  
  
Shorty


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